


The Brains and The Brawn

by AngelWithAStory



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And Went Down Hill From There, It All Started With a Hogwarts-Sherlock Fanart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:20:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAStory/pseuds/AngelWithAStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is a pure-blood. John Watson is a muggle-born. It takes Sherlock no time to deduce that. The strange thing is: Sherlock envy's John because he was born into a muggle family. All Sherlock has known was the wizarding world and, predictably, he finds it boring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm such a big fan of both Harry Potter and Sherlock!! I just had to do this!

I guess it all began on that train. That beautiful scarlet train. I’d gotten on, full of excitement and enthusiasm. My dad had seen me off, happy as anything. His son: a wizard. It was almost too extreme to believe. I wouldn’t have believed it if that Ministry of Magic official hadn’t come and proved to us that I was a wizard. I stepped on the train, lugging my heavy trunk behind me. I staggered down the train, until I found an almost empty compartment. There was only one person in the compartment, a young boy with his nose buried in a book. He had dark hair that curled uncontrollably and a skinny build.   
“Sorry, do you mind if I sit here?” I asked, popping my head round the door. He lazily looked at me over the top of his book. Instead of replying, he waved his hand to signal that I could take a seat. A little discouraged, I pulled my trunk in, rested it on the rack by the door and sat down opposite the boy. Looking at him close up, I realised he couldn’t be much older than me. Sunlight streamed in trough the massive window that dominated almost an entire wall of the compartment. For a few minutes, the outside world passed us by and we were silent.  
“So, what’s your name?”I asked, desperate to avoid the silence. Ever since I could remember, I’ve hated those awkward silences.  
“Sherlock.” He answered, turning the page of his book.  
“I’m John Watson. Are you a first year?” I continued, refusing to let silence descend.   
“Yes.” He replied, obviously bored already. I gave up trying to spark a conversation. Luckily, the trolley lady came around not long after.  
“Anything from the trolley, dears?” she asked, opening the compartment door.  
“Erm, I’ll have a chocolate frog, if you have any.” I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a small-ish silver coin that I was told was called a ‘sickle’. Sherlock completely ignored her. She closed the door and rattled off down the train, leaving me with my chocolate frog in my hands. Sherlock turned to me as she left.   
“Single. Desperately seeking a companion. Worked here ten, maybe twelve years.” He said, his words coming out as one long sentence.   
“Who? The trolley lady?” I asked, probably sounding stupid.   
“Yes, the trolley lady.” Sherlock said shortly.  
“How do you know?”   
“It wasn’t very hard. Her lipstick doesn’t suit her at all but my brother’s girlfriend wears it, so she’s trying to look younger. Single at that age, of course she’s desperate. Her outfit is well worn around the neckline, suggesting it’s old. The way she spoke, the tone she used, shows that she’s said that same line many times. Conclusion, she’s worked for a long time and wants a husband.” He explained, ending with a flourish.  
“You made that up.” I said defiantly. “There’s no way you could know that.” Sherlock slowly put the book down and looked at me quizzically.   
“You’re a muggle born. Unsure of this great adventure you’re about to have. Your dad works with some military job, possibly a soldier. But, your dad dropped you off, so it’s unlikely he’d have a job that required long leaves of absence. Maybe he had a past military career, but quit when he wanted to start a family. Your mum didn’t see you off, so there’s a strong possibility that she’s absent from your life in general. Maybe she died, more likely she left you and your dad some time ago. Now, your shoes are old, but they’re too big for you, suggesting they belong to an older sibling. The pattern is unisex to probably your sisters. If it was a brother, you wouldn’t have drawn over the girly colours used. Your sister wasn’t there to see you off, suggesting she’s older and already at school. She must be a muggle since she isn’t on the train. The way you hold yourself tells me that you don’t want to believe something this great could happen to you. Am I wrong?” His words buzzed out of him in such speed and accuracy that it was incredible he didn’t pass out.  
“How do you know?” I repeated.  
“Please, it was easy.” Sherlock bragged, leaning back and opening his book again. “I saw you on the platform for starters. Your dad’s military haircut, the way you kept glancing around the platform, following everyone else. Deduction told me you were a muggle born; common sense told me the rest.”   
“That’s incredible.” I said, astounded.  
“Really?” he asked with a note of confusion in his voice.  
“Yes. That was amazing.” I repeated, looking at him in awe. The door opened and a tall, pudgy boy stood there, looking at us. He had a regal feel about him. His dark hair was very similar to Sherlock’s but not as curly. A girl stood gingerly behind him, not sure whether to do anything or not.  
“Sherlock, you put your book in my trunk.” He said irritably, holding out a large hardback book with the words ‘The Lives and Habits of British Muggles’ in gold print on the front.   
“Thank you, dear brother. I’ve been sick with worry.” Sherlock said sarcastically, holding his hand out for the boy to give him his own book.  
“Oh, such wit. I’ll bet a hundred galleons you’ll end up in Ravenclaw.” The boy said coldly.  
“We all knew that. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.” Sherlock snipped, placing the book down next to him. The look on the boys face grew dangerous. His hand twitched towards his pocket. The girl saw it as well.  
“Come on Mycroft. Let’s go back to our compartment.” She said, tugging at his arm. He reluctantly followed her.   
“Who was that?” I asked once the door had closed.  
“My brother: Mycroft. Slytherin, fourth-year. He’s convinced he’s going to be Minister of Magic when he leaves Hogwarts.” Sherlock explained, going back to his book.   
“Oh. What’s Ravenclaw?” I said, thinking over the conversation.  
“One of the four houses of Hogwarts. There are Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Each one is named after one of the four founders.” He continued in his bored voice. 

Darkness fell and the lamps inside the compartment lit up automatically. A boy with a shiny silver badge on his chest came to the door and told us we need to put our robes on. I looked to Sherlock for reassurance.  
“Prefect. We’d better change.” He pulled out a long black robe from his trunk and put it over his normal clothes. I copied, suddenly terrified for what would come next. The train stopped and we got off, leaving our trunks on the train as we were told to. A giant man holding a lamp was calling out for all the first years to follow him. We were lead down to the edge of the lake, where dozens of little boats sat patiently waiting for our arrival. I climbed into one and helped a frightened looking girl with extremely long blonde hair into the same boat. Sherlock clamoured in, but didn’t say a word to either of us.  
“I’m John.” I introduced myself to the girl politely. The boat lurched away from the bank and she held onto the side for dear life.  
“Liv. It’s nice to meet you John.” She said, her knuckles going white from gripping the side of the boat too tight.   
“This is Sherlock.” I said, since he gave no intention to speak to anyone. Liv nodded and looked along the horizon. The boats kept going steadily across the wide lake, thought no one was powering them. A magnificent castle loomed out of the distance, shadowing us all. It showed off with three impossibly tall towers and rooms that were so high, the lights inside them looked like small specks above us. The boats went through a sheet of vines and weeds until we emerged into small cavernous clearing. The boats bumped gently onto a platform and we all scrambled out. The man led us up loads of stairs until we arrived at the front door of Hogwarts. A stern looking teacher shepherded us into a small chamber to the side of the great hall and explained about the Sorting Ceremony and the four houses. I stuck by Sherlock absent-mindedly and Liv kept within range as well. After a few moments, we were shown into the great hall and led up to the top end where a battered old hat sat perched on a stool. He sang a strange song, which I couldn’t remember, and the Sorting ceremony began. Liv’s name was called towards the beginning and the hat declared her Ravenclaw.   
“Sherlock Holmes.” The teacher called out after the last student joined the Hufflepuff table. Sherlock breathed deeply and walked up to the stool. It didn’t take long for the hat to decide his place.  
“Ravenclaw!” It shouted for the whole school to hear. By the time my name was called, very few students were left.   
“John Watson.” She called out. I walked steadily to the stool and the hat was placed on my head.  
“Brave heart. Loyalty beyond your own knowledge. Nerves of steel. Only one place for you.” the hat whispered to me and me alone. “Gryffindor!” the hat declared. A large round of applause sounded from the middle table and I walked towards them, feeling elated. I sat down and the feast began. When the feast ended, our Head teacher got up from his chair and made a few announcements. There were places we weren’t allowed to go, new teachers, specific rules which we needed to know. Finally, we were sent to bed and I followed the other Gryffindors up to the common room. Our prefects gave us the tour and I marched up to my dormitory. Four other boys shared it with me and I fell asleep, convinced I would wake up back in my own bed and all this would be a dream. Luckily, I woke up the next morning and everything was exactly the same. 

 

Since that day, six years had passed and Sherlock and I were in our last year at Hogwarts. We had stuck by each other and had become quite good friends, considering we were in separate houses. We were sitting on the grass beside the lake a few days after we started our 7th year. The giant squid floated across the surface, basking in the continuing autumn warmth. I watched a couple of girls in our year wading in the lake as a way to cool off, even though I found to weather mild. I looked to my side and I wasn’t surprised to find Sherlock with his nose in a book.  
“Don’t you get tired of reading?” I asked, leaning back and stretching my legs out in front of me.  
“Do you get tired of questioning me?” he retorted in that bored voice he always managed to have. “Anyway, real life’s boring.” He continued, flipping the page.  
“You go to a school for wizards! How can that be boring?” I exclaimed, remembering the days when I attended Muggle School, perfectly normal.   
“It’s not that.” Sherlock complained, putting his book on the grass. “What’s going to happen to us after we leave Hogwarts?” he questioned, looking at me.  
“We get a job.” I answered.  
“Where? The Ministry of Magic? St Mungos? It’s so limited.” He said, lying back on the grass as well.  
“You should have told the professor when you went for your career consultation.” I said, my voice level.  
“I did. They told me I had to get a job in the magical world.”   
“That’s true. You can’t get a muggle job. What if they find out you’re a wizard? What then?” I had to agree with the professor, but I wanted to know where Sherlock was going with this.  
“The entire wizarding world thinks we have to be separate from muggles, they think we’re better let alone. But what if they’re wrong? I mean, look at you: you came from a muggle family, and you settled in here just fine. You’re one of the best wizards here! But you had no idea about our world until you were eleven.” Sherlock explained, no longer speaking as if he was bored – more exhausted.  
“So what?”   
“So, if you can accept the wizarding world, why does the government think everyone else can’t?” he turned on his side to face me.   
“If the muggle world found out we weren’t like them, we’d be shunned. You know that. People naturally don’t like anyone who’s different to them. That’s why there were wars. People just hate difference.” I said, trying to close the matter. I should have known he wouldn’t let it drop.  
“What about when they realise we aren’t strange? What if they don’t hate us?” he pressed me for answers.  
“Look, why don’t you send Mycroft a letter if you want to know about the workings of the Ministry. Lord knows he’ll be minister some day.” I snapped. I turned my eyes up to the clear sky but I felt his gaze still on me.  
“It just doesn’t make sense.” Sherlock said, ending the conversation. I heard him turn back on his back. Footsteps sounded on the springy grass and I saw the shadow of someone approaching. I sat up and saw Liv approaching. We’ve gotten along through the years, but never really developed a friendship.   
“Hello John.” She said politely, standing a few feet away.  
“Hi Liv.” I replied.   
“Sherlock, Professor McGonagall wants to see you. She sounded angry.” Liv said, looking at Him. Her hair was in a plait but hairs started to come loose. She smiled at me and walked back into the school. Sherlock groaned and got up. I got up as well.  
“What do you think she wants?” I said, walking up with him to her office. He shrugged his shoulders, not looking at me. I sighed heavily. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping, but what can we do? We’re just students. We aren’t even of age. I’ll see you later.” I apologised, walking off to the common room. I walked up to the old portrait that had been there for years and told her the password.  
“Well aren’t you a barrel of laughs today?” she said sarcastically as I entered through the hole in the wall. I didn’t reply to her. That portrait never failed to humiliate me. I went to my dormitory and took a book out of my bag. The only problem about the wizarding world, I found, was they didn’t have any book I enjoyed. Every few weeks, I would get my sister to send me a book from the muggle world. I read them and re-read them, amazed. Most of them were fantasy, everything from magic powers to aliens. I love reading about how muggles thought our world worked.   
I went back down to the common room and took a seat by the fire. I opened my book and became absorbed by the words. Darkness settled over the land outside, and I suddenly became aware of the time. I tucked the book back upstairs and went for dinner. The hall was noisy as always, and I took a seat by some of my Gryffindor friends. Everything was alright, except I couldn’t see Sherlock anywhere. 

The next morning, I realised it was Saturday. My homework had been completed during the week, so I had the whole day to relax. I got dressed in my ‘muggle’ clothes and headed down to the hall for breakfast. Sherlock wasn’t there. I should have remembered he hardly ever ate, but it worried that he’d been summoned by a teacher and I hadn’t seen him since. I left the great hall and saw Liv coming down the stairs.  
“Hey Liv, have you seen Sherlock?” I asked, running up the stairs to catch her.  
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Though to be honest, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t in his room sulking. Sometimes, he doesn’t come down for days. I’ll keep an eye out for him though.” She said, walking into the great hall. Her words sunk in, and I was assured. He was probably just in one of his sulking marathons. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued up the stairs to the common room.   
“John!” someone shouted. I turned around and saw one of my friends holding a letter in his hand. I walked down to meet him.  
“What’s this?” I asked, looking at the letter.  
“It came for you just after you left.” He said, handing it to me. I recognised my dad’s handwriting on the front.   
“Cheers mate.” I said fleetingly, taking my letter with me as I climbed up the stairs. I didn’t want to go to the common room, so I went down some corridors and lent against the wall. No one was around. I undid the seal and scanned the letter. 

John, I wouldn’t write if it wasn’t good.   
Harriet isn’t right, she’s been to so many parties that I’m worried about her. She’s been getting drunk at everyone and I think it’s taking its toll. I don’t know what to do, but I’m taking her to the doctor.   
Also, I’m going to rejoin the army. You’re almost of age, when you come home at the end of the year, I’ll help you get a place of your own and then I’m going to rejoin. I won’t leave you with nothing though; I will help you in any way but... I gave up my army days to raise you and Harriet. Now you’re grown up, I want to go back to what I love. Sorry to have to tell you this by letter, but it couldn’t wait. Do great in your exams and I can’t wait to see you in the summer.

Dad.

I was stunned. My knees buckled and I felt the floor underneath me. First, my sister was turning into a drunk. Second, my dad was going to be a soldier again. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but it’s clear he’s wanted to do this for a long time. I put my head in my hands and thought. There was nothing I could do, about either problem.   
A figure appeared at the end of the corridor and slowly raised my head. I discreetly reached for my pocket and pulled my wand out, aiming at the figure.   
“It’s just me.” They said. I recognise the voice as Molly’s.   
“Oh, what do you want?” I asked, a bit too roughly. Molly came towards me. Her light brown hair and bright green eyes gave her a magical look.   
“I wanted to know if you were okay. I saw you disappear. You looked upset. Is everything alright?” she asked. I leant against the wall and sat down again.   
“Yeah, everything’s perfect.” I lied. She sat down next to me and I knew she didn’t buy it. She placed her hand on my shoulder.  
“You can tell me.” She said softly, inviting me to confide in her. I sighed and turned to her.  
“My dad just sent a letter. He’s going to join the army, my sister’s turning alcoholic and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s hard to take it in all at once.” I told her. Molly’s always been a great friend. I can tell her anything and I know she wouldn’t tell a soul.   
“I know. In our third year, my mum sent me a letter saying her and dad were splitting up. It was hard. They were fine when the year began, so I thought I’d have a breakdown. It’s hard to take at first, but that feeling does go away. At least you can tell someone, I had no one. It’ll all be fine, trust me.” Molly reassured me, her voice very maternal towards me.   
“Thank you Molly.” I said sincerely.   
“No problem.” She got up and looked at me. “You can come and talk to me anytime. Just don’t keep this all to yourself, it’s not healthy.” She said smiling. I watched her leave. I really did like having someone I could confide in, even if it they couldn’t really give me some advice. How much time passed while I sat in that corridor and thought, I couldn’t tell you. I did come to the conclusion that moping about all day wasn’t good for me. I got up, brushed myself down and walked briskly to the common room. When I got there, I took a quill and parchment from my school bag and began writing. Almost everyone else was outside enjoying the warmth or the library catching up with work. After the first few words, I stopped. I wanted to tell my dad everything Molly had told me. I wanted to reassure him, but it didn’t help that we were separated by a piece of paper and hundreds of miles. I tried my best, writing how everything with Harriet would work itself out, and how she was just a young adult having some fun. I wrote down how I was completely supportive of his choice to go back into the military, but those words were false. I wrote them anyway, sealed the parchment and took it up to the owlery. The school owls were more than happy to comply with my request. I sent one on their way and made my way back down to the common room. I took the book from yesterday and read the day away.   
“John?” someone said, tapping my shoulder. I must have dozed off in front of the fire since the sky outside was inky blue and the fire wasn’t as bright. I looked up at them and saw Molly looking at me. She’d clearly just come up from dinner, since her hair was down and she’d changed into more casual clothes. I looked around the common room. There were a few other students revising, books spread out over the tables, not paying attention to anything else.  
“John?” Molly said again.  
“Yeah?”   
“This was stuck next to the portrait when I came up. It’s got your name on it.” she said, holding out a small folded piece of parchment. I thought for a moment that it was a reply from dad but I remembered that I’d only just sent the letter, he couldn’t have replied.   
“Thanks.” I took it from her and unfolded it. She walked up the stairs to the girls dormitories and I scanned the paper. There were six words written at the top:

Owlery. Come at once if convenient.

Underneath that were four more words, written as if they were an afterthought:

If inconvenient, come anyway.

These words were followed by his signature: SH. I closed the paper, slipped it into my pocket and left the common room, making my way to the owlery. I didn’t care if the teachers caught me, the worst they could do was give me detention. They could only take away house points, but I could make them back in a week. Two, tops.   
Anyway, I was sneaky. My dad had keen instincts, and I’d inherited them. The way to the owlery was clear of any teachers, or Filch for that matter, and I made it there in no time. Sherlock stood against the window, the moonlight silhouetting him.  
“You asked me to come. I’m assuming it’s important.” I said, watching him. He turned around and looked at me.  
“I need to ask you something.” He stated, taking a few steps closer.  
“Well, I’m here.” I observed, sarcasm taking over me briefly. Sherlock chose to ignore that statement.  
“When we leave Hogwarts, will you forget me?” he asked, utterly serious.  
“What?” the question didn’t make much sense.   
“When we leave, do you think you’ll forget me?” he repeated.  
“You’re pretty unforgettable, you’ve got to admit.” I said, really confused.  
“What if I left the wizarding world?” he inquired. His face was deadly serious and his eyes scanned my face, searching for an answer.  
“Sherlock, what are you talking about?” I really didn’t know what he was getting at.  
“I’m going to give up magic. After this year, I’m going to go become part of the muggle world.” He explained, looking me in eye. He wasn’t lying.  
“That’s... crazy.” I managed after a few moments of silence. “You know nothing about muggles! How they interact, the jobs they do, you’d be in way over your head.”   
“That’s why you’re going to teach me about the muggle world.” Sherlock said, looking at me with complete certainly.  
“You’ve thought this through.” I regarded, taken back. “You’ve planned this haven’t you?”  
“Yes.” He admitted, looking me straight in the eye.  
“How long?” I asked, really stunned. “How long have you... prepared for this?”  
“Since the beginning of the year.”   
“Why?” I said quietly, it slowly sinking in.  
“I’ve read all about the muggle world, about everything that you know. I want to see how they live. I grew up in a wizard family; I’ve been sheltered from the real world.” Sherlock said; his voice envious. “I just want to experience it, first-hand.” He finished.  
“And you want my help.” It wasn’t a question.  
“I need your help.” He corrected. I thought it over, thinking through every possible scenario.  
“What will you do for a job?”  
“I’ll think of something.”   
“Yeah, that’s what Ravenclaws do best. Think. Figure things out. Solve puzzles.” I said, the spitefulness of my voice surprising Sherlock.   
“John?” he asked quietly.  
“Maybe you should become a detective or something? Put your massive intellect to good use.” I tried to keep my voice light, cancelling out the spite from before. Sherlock looked at me. His eyes scanned my posture, my face, trying to assess my attitude.   
“Will you help me?” he asked finally, finished with his deducing.   
“No.” I said definatly. His face fell. Sherlock turned away and I put my hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to join you.”


	2. You'll Give Up Magic For Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson knows what he's leaving behind, but he also knows what he'll gain. Lets hope it's all worth it in the end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapters shorter than the first. I will write more when I can be bothered. For now, enjoy!

Sherlock spun around and looked at me, checking if I was serious.  
“Really?”  
“Yes. Magic’s great and all but... God, I miss being John. Normal muggle John, when nothing happened to me.” I smiled at Sherlock, which he returned.

We left Hogwarts at the end of that year. We’d spent a lot of it preparing for when we would leave it all behind. I worked hard on my studies. I’d wanted to become a healer anyway, so I decided going into muggle medicine was sensible. Sherlock got every book on the muggle world out of the library and memorised each page. It was fascinating how he could have all that information in his head and still be so clueless about some things. I asked him ‘What is the slang for the underground train lines in London?’ to which he replied ‘the Floo Network’.   
“No, the ‘tube’.” I said patiently. “How don’t you know that?” It was common knowledge, and he must have come across the expression somewhere. We were in the middle of one of our revision session, as Sherlock puts it. I sat on the grass, basking in the sunlight, while Sherlock sat just in front of a tree.  
“I probably deleted it from my memory.” Sherlock replied, batting the question away.  
“It’s quite important if you want to blend in.” I pointed out. “Normal people don’t have the Floo Network.”   
“’Can we move on?” Sherlock demanded, getting annoyed at me.   
“Okay, next question.” I said, reading the next question off a sheet of paper Sherlock gave me to aid his learning. “Oh you should know this: What popular muggle game is based on places in London?”  
“Easy, Monopoly. Next.” Sherlock said, waving me on. I held the paper closer to my face.  
“How often are the general elections?” I saw a groan come over his face.  
“Oh John, you know I don’t concern myself with trivial knowledge.” He said, leaning back against the tree trunk.   
“When you’re over 18, you get a vote. You need to know this stuff Sherlock.” I said impatiently, jabbing the book open on my lap.  
“Fine, just move on.” He dismissed my complaints.   
“The answer was four, by the way.” I concluded, looking back over the list. “Okay, name a famous address in London.”  
“Number ten, Downing Street.” He replied, as if he memorised it, which he probably did.  
“Why?”  
“It’s where the Prime Minister lives.” He reeled off, as if he was reading it out.   
“Good.” I praised, smiling. He looked at me with a scowl.  
“Don’t patronise me John.” He snapped.  
“I’m not, you’re really improving.” I said sincerely, shutting the book and shoving it in my bag. “I think that’s enough for today.” Sherlock stood up lazily, picking up his books he carried around.   
“Hey, Sherlock. John.” Liv said, striding up to us both.   
“Hi Liv,” I said, hitching my bag higher up on my shoulder.  
“Sherlock, McGonagall wants to see you in her office at seven today.” Liv said automatically, her tone bored and practiced.   
“Thank you.” Sherlock said, nodding his head curtly. Liv looked at us both and walked off, re joining her friends.  
“What does she want?” I asked Sherlock as we walked back into the school.  
“Who?” he asked, not looking at me. We started walking back to the library to return our mountains of books.  
“McGonagall. She’s seen you every week for the last month. Are you on detention or something?” I questions, walking up the stairs weighted down significantly. I looked at Sherlock. He didn’t acknowledge the question, and he didn’t answer. I let the matter drop. 

“Sherlock, have you told you’re brother about our plans for abandoning magic?” I asked one day in May, holding a letter in my hand.  
“My brother doesn’t have to know everything that goes on in my life.” He replied sulkily.   
“Well, somehow he knows and he’s sent you... 8 letters about it.” I told him, reading the parchment in my hand.   
“I know.” Sherlock said shortly.  
“Well, he’s sending me letters now. Must be important.” I said, showing him the letter.  
“Why didn’t he postpone that meeting?” Sherlock said to himself.  
“Pardon?”  
“My brother doesn’t send letters if he’s got work to do. Anyway, it’s not like he can stop us.” Sherlock added, looking at me to prove his point.  
“I just think that he deserves to know what’s going to happen after this year ends. He is the Minister of Magic.” I persisted.  
“MR HOLMES!” McGonagall’s voice shouted at us. We spun around to see her running down the corridor. “Mr Watson, you have a visitor. He’s in Dumbledore’s office.” She reported, leading them back to the headmaster’s room.


	3. An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor has arrived at Hogwarts and wants a word with Sherlock and John.   
> Knowing them, what's the worst that could happen?

We approached the Gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s office.

“Mint humbug.” McGonagall announced, flicking her hands at the Gargoyle. It nodded solemnly and jumped to the side, revealing a spiral staircase. All three of us took a step onto the stairs and allowed ourselves to be transported up. A very large, very heavy door bared their way, guarded by equally large and heavy security wizards. McGonagall took a step towards them and spoke very clearly, as if they were too dim to understand her if she spoke quietly (not that either of us were used to her speaking quietly)

“John and Sherlock Holmes to see him.” she said, nodding her head and travelling back down the stairs.

“Wait, why didn’t she say my last name?” I asked Sherlock, not really expecting an answer from my companion.

“The Minister of Magic will speak to you now.” One of the security wizards said, opening the door enough to admit us.

“No, really. Why didn’t she say John Watson? It makes us sound like we’re a married couple.” I complained, entering the Headmaster’s office.

“You certainly act like a married couple, so why not introduce you like one?” the familiar voice drawled from the Headmasters usual chair. Dumbledore wasn’t in the room, so the only person who could have spoken was Mycroft Holmes; and he sat directly in front of us.

“We’re not a couple.” I protested for the millionth time in two years.

“Of course not, John.” Mycroft patronized, making me flush with embarrassment. Sherlock looked amused at his best friend and didn’t even try to hide it.

“Shut up.” I hissed at him, taking a seat across from Mycroft. Sherlock slumped down in a chair, looking at the portraits plastering the walls.

“It’s so amusing, seeing you flustered.” Sherlock commented, gazing at me.

“So, what brings you here Minister?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“It has come to my attention that you are planning to drop out of Hogwarts and become ‘muggles’.” Mycroft began, his eyes flickering from his younger brother to me. He shuddered slightly at the last word and that didn’t go unnoticed. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in my direction, reading my thoughts, it seemed.

                “Well, the information is wrong.” I corrected, gaining a raised eyebrow from Mycroft. “We are not dropping out; we will finish our education and then drop magic.”Mycroft’s eyes turned steel sharp.

                “If you are going to abandon magic, why not do it now? Why learn more magic before giving it up and living without It.” he interrogated, his glared focused more on his brother than me. I could tell he wanted to add ‘ _like muggles_ ´ on the end of the sentence.

                “Why waste your time asking us pointless questions?” I countered, covering up the fact he didn’t know the answer to that. One of the portraits on the wall, a stuck up Slytherin by the look of him, chose that moment to speak up.

“Back in my day, no one would _dare_ speak to the Minister of Magic like that. Some people need to learn respect.” He commented, in a very snooty fashion.

“Well, he’s more my best mate’s brother than Minister of Magic in my books.” I countered, turning to face the portrait.

“All the more reason to show respect.” It replied, sneering at me.

“Respect is an entirely different subject Phineas.” Mycroft said, dismissing the portrait. It huffed and turned away haughtily.

“Why exactly did you come today?” Sherlock cut across, his hands extended in front of his face so the tips of his fingers were pressed against his lips.

“I came to either discourage your decision or to join you.” Mycroft answered, gaining a raised eyebrow from Sherlock.

“I’m sorry, what? You want to give up magic as well?” I asked to clarify, leaning forwards in my chair.

“Yes, if my effort to persuade you otherwise proves to be fruitless.” Mycroft conditioned.

“Well you better learn how a microwave works.” I answered determinedly, leaning back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest.

“Good to see you dear brother. John, I think we should go.” Sherlock said, standing up and giving his brother a half-smile. I stood up nervously, watching as Sherlock took a few strides towards the door.

“Always good to see you Mycroft.” I said, following my best friend’s example and going to the door.  Just as the door closed I could hear Mycroft speaking with the snarky portrait on the wall.

“He’s always been like this. I just wish he’d stop.” He muttered.

“The disrespectful Muggle-born or the inconsiderate dark-haired brat?” The portrait retorted, a sneer coming through clearly.

“Both.” Mycroft replied, his voice exasperated. I smiled.


	4. The End of Our Time At Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 7th year of John and Sherlock's magical education is drawing to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH! I haven't updated this for AGES!! I'm so sorry!! This has been the hardest chapter to write for some unknown reason. I know what's going to happen at the end but I had a massive gap that I had to fill and it took so much longer than expected. after this, there will be a time-jump of a few years probably, but I will need to clarify that when tiding up the writing. Hopefully this will be enough for now...

The end of the year drew impossibly close and we really had to buckle down for our exams. Yes it was boring, and yes it was unnecessary, but we had to do well otherwise people would suspect something. We studied together tirelessly, desperate to get the highest grade we could.

“Well that wasn’t too bad.”  I said as we walked out of the first exam we had.

“It was very dull.” Sherlock commented, both of us instinctively walking out onto the ground to the lake.

“Of course it was; it was an exam.” I countered, grinning at the face Sherlock pulled. We sat down in the shade of the tree and I leaned back, gazing over the crystalline water. Sherlock hunched forwards, a book open on his lap. I laughed slightly when I saw him.

“What?” he asked, looking a bit put out.

“Well, I guess you’re in Ravenclaw for a reason.” I said slyly. Sherlock scoffed gently.

“I thought Gryffindors were brave. What have you done that’s brave?” He asked spitefully.

“I became friends with you. I deserve a bloody medal for surviving this long.” I replied, grinning. Sherlock gave me one of his secret smiles. I call them secret smiles, because no one else can make him smile. At least, I’ve never seen him smile at anyone else. That always made me smile wider: knowing I was the only one who could provoke his smile. It was nice knowing that.

“John, can you start showing up for breakfast please? This owl’s been driving me insane.” The voice of Molly demanded, storming up to me and Sherlock. A small owl was twittering around her head, carefully following Molly so it wasn’t more than two feet away from her. I stood up, biting back laughter at her disgruntled expression.

“Sorry Molls,” I apologised, reaching up to distract the owl. Its glossy eyes passed over me and immediately it settled down on my arm.

“Good job, owl-charmer. Now if you excuse me,” She said, hastily patting her hair down and walking off. I took the two envelopes from the owl and it flew off almost straight away. The names struck me as odd. One was addressed to me, the other wasn’t for Sherlock.

“Molly! This letter’s for you.” I called out, running after her. She swung around, just as perplexed as I was. She took the cream parchment from my hand and inspected the handwriting.

“Thanks John, I guess. Sorry, but I’ve really got to go.” She said, quickly running off.  I walked back to where Sherlock rested, opening the letter in my hands. I straightened up the sheet and scanned the hurried writing.

“Can I guess who sent it?” Sherlock asked snidely, barely looking up from the text book in his hands. I smiled and sat down on the grass.

“Mycroft’s coming to our graduation. He’s going to make some speech about how important starting our lives off properly is, or something like that.” I recalled, folding the parchment and stuffing it into my school bag. “Apparently, it’s the first time the Minister of Magic is going to make a speech at a Hogwarts graduation.” I said. Sherlock’s intense blue eyes flickered up to me.

“Dull.” He stated, completely uninterested.

“Yeah well, you have to behave while your brothers here.” I retorted, half-ordering. Sherlock huffed in annoyance and I grinned again.

 

“So without further a due, the Minister of Magic; Mycroft Holmes.” The head teacher said grandly, stepping back from the owl podium everyone in the hall had grown so accustomed to over the past 7 years. A familiar, slightly plump man stood up from a chair and walked over regally to the stand. All the 7th years applauded as Mycroft began his pre-prepared speech. I glanced at Sherlock who was sitting by my side and rolled my eyes as I saw him gazing out the high window at the sky. My elbow quickly jabbed him in the ribs and he glared at me. I didn’t look at him; instead I looked straight ahead and nodded quietly. Reluctantly, Sherlock followed my gaze and listened to Mycroft talking. Admittedly, it _was_ boring. We’d heard Mycroft say a hundred variants of this speech over the past year and it never really sank in. Suddenly, the hall started applauding and I snapped out of my thought to join in. Mycroft had nodded and was resuming his seat.

“I told you it’d be dull.” Sherlock whispered in my ear from my side. I stifled a laugh and covered my mouth with the back of my hand. Next the head teacher said a few words.

“Even though you’re time at Hogwarts is drawing to a close; everything you have learned in those 7 years will remain with you for the rest of your days. Hogwarts will stay with you. No matter what path you chose to take, no matter what career you wish to do; everyone here shares a bond. I wish you all the best luck in the world.” He said grandly, his wisdom-filled eyes passing over every students face. We applauded again and we were dismissed.

The next day was the day we left Hogwarts and started our new lives. For most, it was just the stepping stone to work at the Ministry or St. Mungos. For me and Sherlock; it was nowhere near as simple as that.


	5. At Ease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short bridging until the final chapter. It's insanely short.

About three months after graduating, our muggle lives truly began. We got a flat share, hidden in the streets of London, safely away from any suspicions. I’d managed to get the muggle requirements to enrol in St. Bartholomew’s military doctor course. Sherlock had actually created a career for himself: consulting detective. People came to him for advice, and he helped. Finally, his massive brain had come in handy. Our flat was grubby and secluded, but it was home for the mean time. While I was content with our place, Sherlock really wanted to live in Baker Street.

 “Sherlock, you have to get a job, work up some money before you can buy a place on Baker Street.” I explained to him. He huffed and looked over at me, pouting.

“But working’s boring.” He complained. I laughed and gathered up my text books that were strewn across the floor from my revision session the night previous.

“Yeah it is. But that’s what muggles do, so get used to it. I need to get to Bart’s. I’ll pick up some food after class. Don’t blow anything up while I’m out.” I said hurriedly, gathering up everything I could need. Sherlock didn’t reply, which I expected from him, and I shut the door behind me. Running to the hospital, I felt strangely content as I caught the tube to school. It felt like I was back at home after a long holiday. Everything felt normal and I felt at ease. It was alright.


	6. This Is It...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few years have past and John and Sherlock's roles as muggles remain unchallenged. Mycroft stepped down from being Minister of Magic and obtained a 'minor' position in the British Government. Molly started work at Bart's Mortuary and is in a (sort of) stable relationship. John finished his course and now he has say goodbye.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!! Finale!! It's sad and fluffy so get tissues and chocolate. Chocolate makes everything better.   
> Don't ship Johnlock, don't read. Simple as!

A FEW YEARS LATER...

 

We stood in front of each other. My bag was packed and resting by the door. Sherlock looked at me. His eyes had a glint that I’d never seen before in all my years of knowing him. He looked...sad.

“I’m being shipped out tomorrow. My training’s complete. I’m an army doctor now. They’re sending me to Afghanistan.” I explained, failing to meet his eye.

“Can you do one last thing for me?” Sherlock asked quietly. The room was empty apart from us. “One last piece of magic.” He continued. My eyes found his and I frowned.

“We both swore to give up magic a long time ago. Why should I use it now?” I replied, my stare hardening.

“Please, just for me. For me, John.” He pleaded. He had never pleaded before in his life. I was taken back. Slowly, I considered his request.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, silently dreading the answer. He pulled out a thin strip of wood from his trouser pocket and held it in his hand.

“I want you to erase my memory.” He said quietly, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“No.” I replied sternly. “I’m not going to wipe your memory. You wouldn’t last ten minutes in London if you couldn’t remember anything! All that research for nothing! I won’t Sherlock!” I declared, turning away from him. His hand rested on my shoulder and I looked at the fingers gripping onto the fabric of my jacket.

“I know how to keep those memories. The one I need to be a muggle. But...” he faltered and I looked at his face. A small wet tear travelled down his high cheek bone. “I can’t stand to think what I would do if you died out there. Even by accident, I don’t want to be sad if I lose you John.” His voice was barely above a whisper and his throat clenched as if he was holding back floods of tears.

“So you want me to erase every memory of me. You want as if we never met and I never existed.  Is that what you want Sherlock?” I demanded, my voice soft. It wasn’t true. I didn’t want it to be true.

“I just don’t want to feel pain if you die.” He whispered, another solitary tear running down his face.

“Then why befriend me in the first place?! You were always going to drop magic, so why waste seven years with me?!” I shouted, my anger flaring up. Sherlock’s blue eyes locked on mine and his sorrow began to drain the anger in my soul.

“I never knew how much you’d mean to me. John, please...” he said, a tear falling on the ground between us.

“Were you using me?” I asked, a thought hitting me like a tonne of bricks. “You always knew I was a muggle-born. Were you using me for information? To learn about being ‘normal’? So you would have some firsthand experience?” I demanded, taking a step back. He didn’t speak. “ANSWER ME SHERLOCK!” I shouted suddenly. 

“John,” he whispered.

“Tell me what I mean to you. Tell me Sherlock, or I’ll walk out here right now and you’ll never see me again. I’ll make sure of it. What do I mean to you?” I demanded, meaning every word I spoke.

“Everything.” He replied, looking me in the eye. I was stunned by his answer, but only slightly. My anger overrode any other emotion I could have felt.

“What?” I hissed, not believing him.

“You mean everything to me John. That’s why I want you to wipe my memory. Please John. Losing you is the worst thing that could happen to me.” He stopped and took a step forwards. His hand gripped my jacket and he held me close. “I love you John and I don’t want to lose you.” He replied. His face was wet with tears and his mouth was parted like he was going to sob any minute.

“You want it to be like we’d never met, so if something does happen, you won’t lose me.” I said, just to clarify. All my anger left just as suddenly as it came and I felt weak.

“Yes John.” He nodded.

“I want to keep my memories of you. I don’t want to forget.” I replied. He pulled back slightly and looked down at me.

“I understand.” He whispered.

“Can you keep just one memory of me? Please.” I asked, placing my hands on his trench coat he wore.

“What memory?” he replied, closing his eyes for a second. My wet eyelashes clumped together and his eyes shone brighter when he opened his eyes.

“This one.” I replied. I stood on the balls of my feet and wound my hand around his neck. I pulled him towards me and pressed my lips on his. Sherlock closed him eyes and allowed this to happen. He wrapped his arms around my waist and we stayed entwined. Finally, I took a step back and released him. Sherlock smiled stupidly for a brief second. He was lost for words.

 

“So, should I erase the memories now, before I go?” I asked, my soul weighed down with sorrow.

“It would be for the best.” He replied. Sherlock placed the tip of his wand to his hair line and pulled it away slowly. A thin, silvery line left with it. In his other hand, Sherlock had a small glass vile. He carefully placed the silvery content in the vile and tapped a small cork in the top. The silvery substance swirled, caught somewhere between liquid and gas.

“What’s that?” I asked, gesturing to the vile.

“My memories of muggle life and London. When you’ve cleared my mind, I’ll put these memories and thoughts back in my mind.” He explained.

“Have you kept _that_ memory?” I inquired, taking the vile out of his outstretched hand. Sherlock nodded solemnly.

“Yes, that’s in there.” He reassured me. “Now, say the spell.” He ordered, a final tear running down his cheek. I took my wand out of my back pocket and pointed it at Sherlock’s head. A tear rolled down to my neck as I prepared myself to utter the incantation. Drawing a shallow breath, I spoke.

“ _Obliviate._ ” I whispered. Sherlock’s eyes clouded over briefly and he looked at me blankly. Tear streamed along my jaw line as I opened the vile in my hand. I lured the content out with the tip of my wand and dragged the substance along his hairline. The blue in Sherlock’s iris regained its intensity and the fog obscuring its beauty faded. He looked at me in surprise and took in my appearance.

“Who are you?” he asked, regaining the same attitude I’d been accustomed to from him.

“Goodbye Sherlock.” I whispered, picking up the bag that was propped up beside the door. I shut the door behind me and sat on the stairs of the apartment building. A flood of tear ran down my cheeks and I wallowed in my sorrow for a few minutes. When my tears finally stopped, I took the mobile out of my jean pocket and clicked on Mycroft’s number. The text message screen came up and I began to type.

 

_Take care of Sherlock. He can’t remember me anymore. Stay safe both of you. Don’t talk about me to him because he won’t remember who I am. Goodbye Mycroft._

I tapped the send button and switched my phone off. Casting one last look at the apartment I had shared with Sherlock, I walked down the stairs. Each step took me closer to me new life. I was Dr John Watson, and I had just left magic behind.

 

.........................

 

“John. John Watson.” Mike Stamford called out, getting up off the park bench. “Stamford. Mike Stamford, we went to Bart’s together.”

.......................

“Come on, who’d want me for a flat mate?” I asked, sipping my coffee. Mike smiled and took a sip of his own.

........................

“Sherlock, this is my old friend John Watson.” Mike said, introducing us. My heart stopped and my eyes widened as I recognised the face in front of me. He didn’t remember me, I knew that much. I had personally wiped his memory of all thoughts of me. If Sherlock couldn’t remember me, I had to pretend I couldn’t either. I wanted to be beside my best friend’s side again, and if I had to pretend I didn’t know who he was, then so be it. Who had to know?

 

*********************************

 

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. No. Sherlock was still alive. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. He’s my friend. He didn’t just jump from Bart’s roof. He didn’t. It was a trick. One of Sherlock’s famous tricks. This wasn’t his real headstone. He planned this. It wasn’t real. So why wasn’t he revealing himself now? Why couldn’t I see him anymore?

“Sherlock...” I whisper, looking at the black marble headstone in front of me. The gold words mock me. He was Sherlock Holmes. My best friend. He couldn’t be gone. I love him.

“You said to me, a long time ago, that you never wanted to lose me. You told me that you loved me. I know it may be too late to say this but: I love you too Sherlock. Since school, since before we agreed to give up magic. I’ve loved you for years Sherlock. And you have no idea how much this hurts me. You had no idea how much it hurt me to wipe your mind and leave you behind. No bullet, or any type of injury, could ever compare to that pain. I love you Sherlock, so please. Please. Don’t be dead.” I beg, a tear descending from my eye. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, pulling my wand out of my jacket pocket. I draw a circle in midair with it and a wreath of flowers dropped on Sherlock’s grave. I take a small note out of my pocket and fasten it to the wreath.

“That’s the last magic I’ll ever do. Goodbye Sherlock.” I whisper, digging a long, thin crevice in the dirt of Sherlock’s grave. I lay the wand down in the shallow ditch and move the dirt back over it. My legs straighten and I stand up, looking down at the golden letters. Nodding curtly, I turn my back on the grave and walk away. The note flutters slightly as a small breeze passes over the cemetery. The writing stands out against the cream background.

 

_Sherlock, I’ll love you ‘til the day magic dies._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's that. Thank you for putting up with the major gaps between the 3rd and 4th chapter. Once I got over the writers block, everything clicked.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clear things up: Molly is Molly Hooper from Sherlock BBC and Liv is just a character I put in there for the fun of it.


End file.
